Winterwands
by Sleaw
Summary: Somewhat hastily-done short Homestuck fanfic about the four kids in an AU dystopian world. Requested by forum member for Secret Santa exchange.


Author's (my) note: This is a short story that was written as part of a Secret Santa Forum Gift Exchange (on the MSPA forums). However, due to time constraints and homework overload I failed the hit the deadline by several weeks, leaving someone without a Christmas present and making myself look pretty stupid in the process. Even now it's not as finished as I'd like it to be, but I'm not going to edit it anymore because that would probably take many more weeks. So I'm not going to ask for any real revision on this, as I know there's lots of bad stuff to say and I'm not planning to change it anyway. :) Merry Christmas!

* * *

April could always sense when she was being watched.

It was a peculiar feeling, starting somewhere in the back of her chest as a warm glow, then moving upwards to her neck and spreading around to the base of her skull as a light tingling sensation. A passing glance was not enough to trigger it, nor was a lingering gaze. Only a full-blown, rock hard stare focused directly at her would set the response in motion. Had it been easy to dismiss before she realised what it meant, she had never successfully ignored the soundless call once she had found out, no matter how she tried. It was a lack of willpower if anything. Every time again it was a mystery – who was watching, and why? – and she could simply not pass it up. It poked at her mind, pulled at her attention, and generally distracted the hell out of her.

Distraction was not something she needed right now, she thought blearily as she rubbed her tired eyes. She had been trying to catch up with her readings for English literature for several hours, with laughably little success. Her mind, while usually sharp and focused, became prone to wandering after a night of bad sleep, and last night she had barely slept at all, leaving her attention span at somewhere between zero and one - on a logarithmic scale.

In two hours she had a lecture to attend, but she had half a mind to just walk back to her apartment, crash down on her bed and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Not that she would, though. Her sense of duty was only surpassed by her fear of missing out on that one crucial bit of information that would definitely come up as soon as she skipped class, and as such she always attended, even when sick or tired.

Failing to push the nagging sensation away, as always, she sighed, looked up from the thick volume before her and gazed groggily around the small cafeteria. It was around elevenish, right before the next batch of lectures, and the place was throbbing with students, chatting and laughing and making a lot of noise with their plates. None of that bothered her much. She actually found the background murmur more relaxing than complete silence, which was why she often came here to study. Annoyingly enough, though, it made it near impossible to single out whoever was taking such an interest in her, let alone catch them in the act. Was it the shy first-year standing in a corner, working up the courage to sit with his classmates? Or one of the giggly girls that claimed three tables for themselves and craned their necks every time a guy walked by? Could it be the older man in the thick black coat, sitting alone and looking rather out of place between all the young folk?

She stared long and hard at the last one, who seemed most suspect to her. He didn't seem to be paying her any attention, but he could have easily seen her searching and prepared accordingly. April squinted as she tried to mentally reinforce her gaze, to make him answer her stare, certain that from his response she would be able to tell the truth, but he kept stubbornly reading his paper.

"Come on, you bastard," she muttered. "Are you taking an unhealthy interest in girls half your age or not?"

"I'm pretty sure that guy's a professor," a voice to her right said. "And he's been reading since he sat himself down. Kind of like you, really."

April turned around so rapidly it was a miracle her neck didn't snap. At the table next to her sat a guy from about her own age, leaned back casually in his chair, watching her. She was almost certain she had never seen him before, and true enough, she would have remembered the gigantic shades that hid his eyes completely or his hair which, quite like her own, was such pale blonde it was almost white. And yet, something about his insensible demeanour, meticulously tuned to radiate a general indifference to anything and everyone, felt strangely familiar.

"_You're _the one who's been watching me?" she asked, her voice expressing only surprise. It was hardly ever that silent observers came over to introduce themselves. Moreover, how had she not seen him when he had been sitting right next to her the entire time?

"I had to make sure it was you." The way he said it didn't make it sound apologetic in the slightest. "You're April, right? We need to talk."

"Hold up - how do you know my name? Have we met before?"

"No. Look." The guy stood up and grabbed his coat, then slung it over his shoulder nonchalantly. "I will explain everything and answer any questions, but not in here. It's too crowded."

April wasn't sure whether to laugh or to scold. "Are you serious? I have work to do, you know. And in case this wasn't clear, I have _no idea_ who you are."

He nodded. "That's exactly why you'll come along. You have to know." His voice should have sounded smug there, because he had hit the nail on the head. But instead, it sounded completely neutral, tired almost. "Besides, you've been sitting there for four hours and done little else than daydream. You could do with some fresh air, right?"

With that, he turned away without looking back. April stared after him, trying to get a grip of what had just happened. Then she cursed under her breath, flung the heavy book in her bag and sprinted after him.

"Hey! Have you been watching me for _four hours_?"

* * *

The snow from the last few days had piled up nicely and formed a thick cold coating over the visible world. If the temperature kept below freezing a white Christmas would be more than likely. April enjoyed that prospect, even though she wished all the white goo wouldn't make getting around so arduous. Even now they were trudging through over a foot of snow, and while her winter boots and knitted shawl kept her warm enough she realised all the more why this season was best enjoyed from behind a plate of insulated glass.

"I have over an hour until my next lecture," she told her mysterious companion. "So what is this vitally important matter you wished to discuss, whoever you are, anyway?"

"Dave," he said shortly. His hands were dug deep into the pockets of his jacket and he didn't seem to like the cold much. "Cutting to the chase, I'm looking for a friend of mine who disappeared a while ago, and I have it on good authority you can help me."

"That is a mystery," April acknowledged, "but I don't see how I can help. Nobody I knew disappeared recently."

"I didn't say recently," Dave said. His breath morphed into coiling white clouds as he spoke. "It was a few years ago. One day she just stopped contacting us. When we did some searching we found out she had moved away to who knows where."

April shot him a curious sideways glance. "I haven't really kept in touch with any of my high school friends. What did you say the name of this fickle lass was?"

"Rose," Dave said. "She lived on the east coast with her mom and wrote godawful wizard fanfiction all year long like her brain was just a tangled ball of fluffed yarn. I never got whether that was on purpose or not, but whatever. She was crazy in a good way, I guess."

April frowned. The name sounded familiar, but only like any common name would, without ringing any specific bells. Stranger was the mentioning of the east coast – she had never even been that way, let alone lived there long enough to befriend anyone.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't see how I could have known her at all. Who did you say referred you to me exactly?"

"Hold on. I have an old picture of her, which she e-mailed me once." Dave reached into the depths of his coat with one hand. "Maybe you could take a look at it and see if it sparks anything in your memory."

"I don't see how - I've never lived anywhere _near_ her area. I really doubt-"

"Just look at it, will you?"

Reluctantly, April glanced over the picture that was put into her hands. A girl was standing in a cozy, somewhat messy room. Books lay strewn across the floor and bed. Through the window in the background April could see snow, more snow than she herself was standing in, and the outskirts of a forest. She turned the picture over in her hands to see if there was anything she was missing, but there was nothing else.

"Very quaint," she said, looking at the front again with a frown, "but I really don't see…"

The words died on her lips. She saw it now. As if two previously unrelated parts of her brain had suddenly connected, from one moment to another she understood what she was looking at. And somehow that set other thoughts in motion, unstoppable, until a mental whirlwind was blowing around inside her skull, with in the calmness of the center only the initial question, remaining resolutely unanswered.

"How?" she growled, looking up at Dave.

His unmoved expression betrayed nothing as he stood there, arms folded. "I told you. Rose took this picture of herself a few years ago. Showing it to you was the easiest way of reminding you of something you were made to forget… you remember now, don't you?"

"I remember being there," April said, staring in the distance without seeing, looking at the images that welled up in her mind like bubbles of swamp gas. "I remember _living_ there. I know this isn't possible, but it feels as if… as if…"

"As if you once were that girl," Dave finished her sentence perfectly. He touched her cheek lightly, and she snapped out of her trance, stirring as if she had been stung. "You have two lives that are both yours," he added. "One of them was imposed on you three years ago, the other was subdued and stashed away in the dark corners of your mind. What remains is for you to choose between them – decide, if you can, who you think you really are."

April shook her head, in denial, in fear. "This is ridiculous. I _know_ who I am. I can't be more than one person, that's just absurd! These - these aren't my memories!"

"Then say it," Dave insisted, raising his voice for the first time, "tell me you are April! Tell me you know this without a doubt and we'll be done here!"

"I can't!" April clutched her head, unable to repress the memories that seemed to roam freely around her head, memories of names and places, smells, fears, affections – all of them hers and none of them consistent with the life she had been leading. She realized with horror that between all the contrary parts that made up who she was, she was unable to distinguish which were truly hers and which were not – all of them were true!

"If I'm everything, I'm nothing," she whispered aghast. "And if I'm nothing-"

"Don't go there," Dave warned her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "For what it's worth, this problem will solve itself either way. The same procedure that kept those memories suppressed for so long will over time push them back again. Every morning you will remember a little less of them, and of this conversation, until you have forgotten completely about Rose and Dave."

"Why is that?" April asked, horrified. "What's happened to me? And why?"

Dave looked around, taking a moment to think. "I don't really have time to explain right now," he said then, "as they're looking for us. Hunting, actually. We'll meet up somewhere else, I'll tell you exactly where to go. From there on out we can work on solving this. Just remember that eventually the choice to go through with this will have to be yours, and it will have to be made soon. If not, well…" He sighed, for the first time showing something of emotion beneath his cool exterior. "If not, then I guess it was nice talking to you at least once more. I missed you, girl. I really did."

* * *

More than two hours later, Dave was sitting on the edge of the roof of a fifteen story building, his back propped against a ventilation unit and his legs stretched out over the icy concrete in front of him. The gusts of wind that pulled at him didn't bother him in the slightest. Having grown up in a cramped apartment high up in a skyscraper, he had always found solace in tasting the fresh air and letting the wind blow his mind clear of the things that bothered him. The roof had been his playground, the crows his playmates, and the sky the limit.

His face was a cool mask as he fiddled with his mobile phone and saved the recording he had just made to a secure source. The server seemed to be running fine still, broadcasting away peacefully, undiscovered by the enforcers. For a moment Dave browsed idly through the hundreds of recordings already there. It always made him feel a little uneasy, insignificant perhaps, to see everything they had done since the start of the Destiny project condensed into a number of audio files. The risk of it being discovered was an even bigger cause for concern. Still, when dealing with brainwashing and mind control it was necessary to have a reference point, to be able to check up on yourself to see if you were really still you. The voice logs, personal and hard to forge, were simply the most efficient tool for that.

They had been Jade's idea, of course, just like the remote server. Dave knew very well they wouldn't have gotten this far without her almost infallible intuition. That only made it more harrowing to see her become less trustworthy and more of a liability with every passing day. Something would have to be done about it and soon, but who would make that decision? Not Egbert, and not Jade herself. It would have to be him again. Somehow, it always had to be him.

Annoyed, he swayed his legs over the edge and on to the gravel. Jade's fate wasn't a concern for now - priority was getting Rose back. She had been pretty freaked out, as expected, but she was a smart girl. With enough evidence to suspect at least something was wrong, she had been willing to follow his instructions and see what could be done about her condition. Whether she had any chance of recovering fully to her old personality remained to be seen. The situation was unprecedented, and they'd just have to roll with the punches.

At any rate, what was done, was done, he thought as he wandered along the roof, looking out over the crowded city streets. Choices had been made and events had been set in motion. Their actions had solicited immediate reactions from the side of the controllers – all within acceptable parameters, but still extremely dangerous. One misstep and it'd all come falling down. Then again, those were the circumstances under which he worked best, and he knew the odds.

"Chance of death, fifty-fifty," he said to himself as he pulled a small gun from inside his jacket. "Is that supposed to be a fucking challenge?"

Out of the blue, the door to the long winding stairwell was flung open with a loud clang, and in the doorway appeared a young man, clad in black and grey, his hand clenched around a pistol that was aimed directly at Dave's chest.

"My playground, bitch," Dave growled, and fired.

* * *

Ka-klang, ka-klang. Ka-klang, ka-klang.

The noise of the old subway train speeding through the dark, desolate tunnels was deafening. Every click-clack of the rusty wheels on the jointed track was just a momentary interruption of the continuous creaking of strained metal and the whining of the derelict engine. Outside the tiny windows, endless concrete walling flashed by at indeterminable speed. And inside, a lonely soul was having a major identity crisis while simultaneously trying not to be thrown off her seat by the unremitting quivering of the subway car.

April Newman, she was not. She had been, scant hours ago, but looking back it didn't seem like her life at all, but that of a stranger, perhaps someone she had met once or had befriended on vacation. Looking ahead was even worse – who was this girl, this Rose, that she was supposed to be? She didn't know the first thing about her. How would attempting to be her be any less of a facade than retaining her old persona? At least she was adept at that. At least that was familiar.

She tapped her foot anxiously on the metal floor, starting to feel sick to her stomach. Knowing something was terribly wrong in her head and being unable to fix it by herself made her feel helpless, confused and surprisingly irrational. She wasn't even sure where this train was headed, but without retreat to the rational world she knew and understood she could do little but blindly follow instructions and hope for the best. At any rate, Dave seemed to know what he was talking about. And he had gotten her into this mess to begin with – she hadn't forgotten that, either.

When she let her gaze wander to the front of the car, she suddenly noticed a camera in the top corner, small enough to be inconspicuous but still clearly meant to be visible, and fixed right on her. The fingers of her right hand twitched involuntarily. Keep it cool, she told herself. It's just a security camera, probably not even a real one. It's just there to make people feel watched. It's not after you.

With as much forced self-control as she could muster she stood up and moved to the opposite bench. The camera followed her with a soft whirr. And then she panicked. Trying to get her breathing under control, she stared at her feet and pretended the thing wasn't there, but her heart was racing. While she was not usually susceptible to paranoia, her current vulnerability and Dave's vague warnings about covert assassins fed her imagination in terrible ways. Somewhat desperate, she grasped for something else to latch her mind on to and found the LED display that told her next stop would be end of the line – her destination. The promise of cold, fresh air and open space relieved her tension a little and helped her suppress the urge to scream for the two remaining minutes it took for the train to shakily slide into the terminal. As soon as it stopped and its doors squeaked open she was gone as well.

A hurried flight and a rapid dash up the station steps later she stood outside again, shin-deep in the snow that was coloured orange by a single defunct lamppost. Her lungs felt like they had shrivelled up and her head throbbed with every heartbeat, but worse than that was the sensation of wanting to act on two different instincts at once, one being to shake off the fear and deal with it and the other to go back home and hide under the blankets. She couldn't manage to do either, and so she just stood there, catching her breath, shaking vehemently, waiting for someone to tell her what to do.

There was no-one. She was all alone here. Deserted streets stretched off in every direction, gradually fading away in the milky white haze. Mountainous constructions dominated the skyline, darkly outlined against a plain grey sky. There was not a soul in sight. Once, she knew, this place had been the city's major industrial district, until economic changes had left it obsolete. Now these concrete colossi were subjected to tantalizing decay, their steel-plated bowels shut off and collapsing, the neural network of glassy fibre and copper conductors perishing and crumbling away, having finally yielded to Time's unrelenting melody...

She shook her head, a little dazed, but mainly annoyed. She was well aware the wordiness was an influx from her Rose-self, and she wanted nothing to do with it, just like she resented the cowardice of her April-self. Whatever that even meant. She kicked the lamppost in pure frustration, and some snow came twirling down from the top.

"For God's sake, who the hell _am_ I?"

An eerie whistle cut through the stillness of the air and the frustration April radiated, enticing, fanning the tension in her heart. Her psychological crisis instantly put on stand-by, she looked around, panicky, and tried to locate the source of the sound while fighting an inner struggle on whether to make a run for it or not. Then she found it.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows, stood a tall figure, and for one moment she thought it might be Dave, and her heart jumped. But no – this one's build was different, and his hair couldn't be the pale blonde that would have drawn attention even in this lightless world. Even so, he beckoned for her to come over, which after a moment's hesitation she did, cautiously but well aware that if he was out to kill her he could have easily done so already.

Then they stood together in the shade, and he made no attempts to assault her. She observed him with a sort of suspicious curiosity. He was a youngster, like herself, but with black, messy hair and rectangular glasses that spelled out sincerity like nothing else. The happy, almost excited way in which he looked at her made it clear he knew her, and as with Dave April was positive she did likewise, a memory from her Rose-self that if anything told her he was trustworthy.

"Geez, Rose, I can't believe it's really you." He was grinning like mad, overjoyed perhaps at reuniting with an old friend. April wished she could reciprocate.

"I'm not sure it is," she said simply. "Are you a friend of Dave's?"

"Yeah, he was going to meet you here, but he was kept up, so-"

"Save it. I want to know what's going on, right now."

He started to say something, probably a continuation of another train of thought entirely, but then her words registered and he fell silent. He thought.

"What?" he said finally.

She poked a finger in his chest, rather less subtle than she was used to. "You heard me. I want answers. I want to know what the hell's happened to me. I want to know how to fix it. And I want to know what is up with all this secrecy, this hiding and running and paranoia. It's driving me crazy, alright?"

His face contorted into a puzzled frown. "There's not much time-"

"Make time. I'm not going anywhere otherwise."

"Listen, Rose-"

"I'm not Rose!" she snapped, suddenly exploding mentally and having only one target to discharge on. Her uncertainties coloured her words cruder than she would have otherwise imagined, but she was just so sick of dangling over this gap, of balancing on the edge of madness, that she could only vent it out word for noxious word.

"How can you speak to me like that?" she continued, her arms hanging cramped by her sides. "Why talk to me on such unfair terms? Have you any idea how wasted I feel right now, how scared I am? You can't dump this crap on me and then deny me help, and you have no right to show up here all friendly like and pretend it'll all be better now you're here! Because, as I already told your hipster buddy, I don't _know _you. I have no idea who you are. So don't speak to me like we're friends. Don't call me by a name that isn't mine. If you have any respect for me, you'll treat me like the girl I am – to you, a stranger – and if not, you can just get the hell out of here this instant!"

And with that, it was out, and she felt like she might just faint, and sure enough the ground seemed to leap up at her, and she closed her eyes for the blow. But when it didn't hit her and she dared to look again she found the guy was holding her up, supporting her with his arms. And to her surprise, a grin appeared on his face, no less sincere than before, without a hint of blame or anger.

"You're kind of crazy," he said, carefully setting her back on her feet, "but you are right, and I'm sorry. I can't even begin to imagine how confusing and frightening all of this must be for you." He extended his hand. "April, isn't it?"

April let her breath escape and shook his hand gingerly. "It is," she said. "I... thanks."

"No problem. I'm John." He looked down one of the snow-covered streets, then checked his watch. "Do you mind if we talk while walking? We're really short on time, and the longer we hang around the bigger the odds of getting a bullet in the head."

"Please tell me that's an exaggeration," April said weakly. "What... who _are _you guys?"

John's smile looked particularly grim as he pulled his hood up and hid the top half of his face in shadow. "We are the last remaining humans in charge of their own lives," he said. "And that doesn't stroke with the plans of some others. That's why they're after us. To prevent us from curing people. To stifle our progress when we're still a small group."

"Last remaining?" April felt the urge to sit down somewhere and think of nothing at all for a while. "Does that mean..."

"Yeah. You're not the only one who used to be someone else." John patted her on the shoulder, a feeble sign of compassion, of futility.

"You're one of about seven billion."

Then he started walking, through the snow, down the street, step by step, in silence.

After a while, she followed in his footsteps.

* * *

The warehouse was one of the smaller buildings in the area, a brick construction with tiny, high-set windows. The front entrances, large enough for entire trucks to pass through, were chained solidly to the ground, and the chains had consequently rusted and frozen, making them impossible to unlock even if you had the keys. Not that anyone would want to – presumably, a generation of thieves had already halted there, given the building a long, hard look, and decided it just wasn't worth the effort, not with the hourly wages and the prices of heavy machinery and so on.

And so it was that, when John and April entered through the small, keypad-locked back door and strolled into the large hall, everything was more or less as it had been left when the district was locked down, only with a lot more dust and rat droppings. Most of the walls were filled with tall shelves who in turn were stacked were empty cardboard boxes and rusty tools and, for the most part, nothing at all. The light was dim and unpleasant and prone to flickering, and for some reason someone had dumped a huge metal freight container against the wall, conveniently sheltering off a portion of the room which turned out to have a large batch of computer equipment in it.

April counted sixteen monitors, almost all of which were displaying live security footage from outside. Only one was doing something else, and it was doing it with a lot of noise and flashing lights, expressing extreme urgency at an incoming call. There was a timer at the bottom; whoever was trying to contact them had been doing so for several minutes already.

John saw it too, and immediately jumped at the keyboard, cursing under his breath. The screen flashed, then changed to display a picture of – and this was when April shrieked in terror – Dave, who seemed to be in a darkened chamber of sorts. Even in that little light, it was obvious he was badly wounded, with his right arm covered in blood and his face wet with sweat.

"Jesus, Egbert," he hissed, "am I calling at a bad time?"

"We… we just got back," John said, seemingly mesmerized by the horrific spectacle on the screen. "We had to take the long way, enforcers are everywhere searching for us… Dave, where are you?"

"Don't know. Some hospital." Dave sat back in his chair panting. He looked as if he could pass out any moment. "I'll try to get to you. Don't wait, though. Get her fixed up and get out. This is turning worse by the moment."

"You can't go anywhere in that state!" April butted in. The image made her feel sick to her stomach but she couldn't look away. "If you can't trust anyone else, then we'll come to you!"

"No," Dave said. His head lolled on his neck for a moment, but then he focused on the screen again. "No, if you leave there, it's all for nothing. Can you tell me… who you are?"

"I-" April started, but realized she had no idea what to say. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't feel like anybody."

Dave nodded painfully. "That's why… you have to stay. We will meet-"

He was interrupted by someone knocking forcefully on the door. A grimace appeared on his face. "Shit," he said. "I think they're he-"

The screen turned to static.

April and John stared at the flickering black and white dots, speechless. John was the first to drop his gaze. "He… can handle himself," he said, unconvincingly. "He'll be fine."

"That's bullshit!" April exclaimed, shocked. "We have to help him right now!"

"We don't even know where he is," John stressed, standing up. "We have our own job to do now, Rose."

"Job my ass!" she said, pointing a trembling finger at him. "He's _dying _out there! And I told you not to call me-"

"Rose?" a third voice said, silencing their quibble immediately. They both turned their heads, John in relief, April in surprise. Next to the freight containers stood a girl of their own age, with black hair and green eyes, watching them curiously. She wore normal winter clothing, but her left side appeared to be covered in black bandages underneath, hiding her left arm and half of her face, though not her eye. Her large round glasses and buck teeth only accentuated her wistful eyes and friendly, somewhat naïve smile, both of which April got a close look at as the girl jumped at her and pulled her into such a tight hug she thought she might break a rib or two.

"My god, Rose, it's really you! You're back!" she squeaked happily. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Jade, what were you doing?" John cut in, saving April an awkward response. His tone was somewhere between worry and annoyance and was enough to silence the black-haired girl immediately. Her smile faded as she let go of April and turned toward him, avoiding his gaze with the air of someone who knows herself to be guilty but would rather not hear it.

"I… was just checking out some of the other rooms, I…"

"Why? You were supposed to stay right here. We nearly missed Dave's call because you weren't around."

Jade stared at her toes. "I'm… I'm not sure what I was thinking. I was just looking for flowers."

"Flowers?" April blurted, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. John merely shook his head tiredly, rubbing his temple with his hand as though he had a headache.

"Fine, whatever," he said. "I'm going to check on the exits and see if the equipment's ready for the procedure. You guys don't go anywhere, alright? I mean, for real this time." He sauntered off without waiting for an answer, seemingly deprived of energy from one moment to the next. Jade looked after him with large, sad eyes.

"I think I hurt him," she said quietly to April. "I don't want to hurt him. I want to help. But I just keep messing up lately, it's like I can't focus on what I'm doing at all…"

April forced herself to smile. "Hey, don't worry. Some people are just a little forgetful from time to time. It's part of who you are."

"It's not that," Jade said, now turning her sad stare on April. "My thoughts used to be so much clearer. I actually managed to save John and Dave from the virus when this all started. It seems so long ago now, but I remember being pretty proud of myself. Until I got sick, I guess. It sort of went downhill with my usefulness from there."

She slumped into one of the crude office chairs and stared dejectedly at the wall. April just stood for a moment, trying to find anything to say that wouldn't sound hopelessly patronizing. Then, with a sigh, she sat down on an empty piece of desk and clutched her forehead. Her mind was bubbling with worries about Dave. Was he really headed their way right now, slogging through the snow while clutching his wounded arm? Or had he been captured, or killed? April's fingers rapped on the metal as she anxiously envisioned Dave's lifeless body being zipped up in a black bag and disposed of so discretely you wouldn't find a square inch of it back. Then it made her nauseous and she tried to turn her attention elsewhere, looking back at the girl called Jade who seemed to stare out at nothing in particular.

"So, hey," she said awkwardly. "You were pretty excited to see me back there, right?"

Jade's gaze, while not actually moving at all, seemed to withdraw from somewhere invisible and focus on her instead.

"I thought I was, but… well, you're not really Rose at all, are you? You look like her, but you're different."

"Tell me about it." April grimaced. "I don't really want to talk about it right now, though. It's driving me mad."

Jade nodded, either thoughtfully or absent-mindedly, April couldn't tell. "Is there anything else you want to talk about, then? We have to wait anyway."

April folded her arms and leaned forward. "John told me everyone, literally _everyone_, has been, like, brainwashed in some way. I'm a little vague on that, to put it mildly."

"It would be hard to comprehend if you didn't go through it and came out the other side with your mind still yours," Jade agreed. "And I guess the technical details would be wasted on you if you didn't have at least an above-expert grasp on ectomorphology."

"On what?"

"Yeah. But basically what you said sums it up nicely. The hardest part was getting the Dream into everyone's minds. That's what they created the virus for, to scare people into taking the vaccine they had prepared." She smiled sagely. "Wouldn't you choose a fake life over a real death?"

"What I would do I don't know. But it seems clear to me what Rose did." April clenched her fist involuntarily. Of course, Rose must have not have another choice – she tried to imagine everyone around her dying, and there being a cure up for grabs, and she knew what was logical to do. And yet, because of that, the past three years of her life had been a lie. Every choice she had made, predetermined. Was that really any different than being dead? Was it even survival?

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Jade said, her voice a shade concerned. "We're all glad you did what you did. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

April huffed. "It's not myself I blame, it's Rose."

"Your other self, then. You should realize by now there aren't two different people – both Rose and April are you."

"I just said I didn't want to talk about it, didn't I?" The sharpness of her tone was unintended, but it reflected her emotions with more clarity than the words themselves could.

Jade was taken aback for a moment, but then her brow furrowed and her voice got a surprisingly cold, almost steely quality to it.

"Well, and what about it? I'm sorry you feel bad. We all do. Only we're out here risking our lives to bring you back, and I'd very much appreciate you showing at least some respect if gratitude is too damn hard for you."

She didn't actually raise her voice, not once, but April suddenly realized how she had to appear to these people, how blunt and whiny and self-involved, and she felt her face turn red. But already Jade's features softened and she walked over to her friend, putting her non-bandaged hand on her knee.

"Look, April… no offense, but you don't know what we've been through. When you… when Rose disappeared and we couldn't find her anywhere, and then when people were dying everywhere and we knew others were out to kill us, we really got desperate at times, we really had to fight just to keep our legs moving and our minds on surviving. Do you have any idea how hard it is to fight and fight with no end for years on end?"

She shook her head, searching for words. "The world… _changed _around us, it was so bizarre. Entire cities disappeared and were reconstructed from scratch elsewhere. Millions of people migrated, walking the roads like empty husks, completely unaware of what was happening. It was like a horror movie, only the horror was everywhere and it never stopped."

Tired, she sank back on her chair and leaned against the cold steel of the container.

"There were others like us, too," she said, slowly, drowsily. "People who had somehow managed to refine or create their own cures. But the enforcers were relentless and killed anyone that showed signs of independence. If anyone besides us survived, they must have withdrawn to the wilderness or to abandoned cities, I don't know… it was horrible. It still is, every single day. All of it is. Horrible."

She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, occasionally stirring at visions burned into the inside of her mind, things she would never unsee again. April could almost feel the misery radiating off her. As she quietly let her fingers run over the keyboard next to her, she couldn't help but wonder if it was all worth it, to fight every single day while you could live a perfectly happy live without ever knowing you weren't really in control. How was that even different from before Destiny? Had people ever been certain of their autonomy, of their ability to choose their lives as they wished? She didn't think they had. And yet... knowing for certain she had not been in control was infinitely more stressful than merely assuming she might not have been. Now that she was aware that humans were merely manipulating humans into conflict, misery and hate for reasons too gruesome to imagine, the responsibility of changing it had fallen to her as well. And while that was a heavy burden to carry, she took a little pride in the fact that for Dave, Jade and John that load had just become a little lighter – another day, another chance to win.

Thinking of Dave made her frown again, but suddenly she felt more purposeful, more able than before. She swirled around, checking out the security footage for any sign of action. There was nothing to see but snow and darkness, though. In fact, it seemed to have started snowing again, which would only diminish the sight. Frustrated, she tapped her fingers on the desktop. "I wish there was some way to know where he was," she said, half to the computer and half to herself. "This is just spiting."

"It's not that hard," Jade muttered sleepily, opening one lazy eye. "We all carry transmitters on an encoded, rotating frequency. Here, let me show you…" She got up, pushed April aside and tapped one or two buttons. One of the screens changed to reveal a map of the district , with a green and a blue dot blinking close to each other and a third, red dot flashing some ways away. April only needed a moment to figure out what way was up, and then jumped up so roughly her chair fell over with a loud clanking.

"He's only three streets away!" she exclaimed, pointing at the screen. "And he's not moving. We have to go and fetch him!"

She turned to Jade, who seemed surprised. "Fetch him? But John told us to stay here. It's only a matter of time before they find us, and we have to destroy the Dream that's in your mind before then. There's no time for anything else."

"We'll make time," April dismissed her protests. "He needs our help, you know that."

"I think he would have wanted you to stay as well," Jade said unhappily. "I know it's hard, I really do. But Dave told us so many times he knew the risks and accepted the consequences. He wouldn't want to get us in trouble any more."

"That's not his choice to make." April grabbed her coat and flung it on. "And neither is it John's. That guy even told me that there was no way of finding Dave! Hypocritical bastards, both of them. They're just as bad as these controllers of yours."

"You don't mean that," Jade said, looking worried but making no attempt to stop her from leaving. "Do you?"

"No," April assured her, fastening her buttons, "I guess not. But after three years of living the life I've been told to live, I'm not going to spend my new-found freedom taking orders. This is my choice, and I'll deal with whatever new consequences arise from it."

Jade smiled. "I think I understand. I'll tell John when he comes back. Oh, and you might want to take this." She turned around, opened a drawer and tossed April a small gun. "Do you know how to use it?"

April caught the firearm dexterously, checked to see if the safety was still on, and slid it in her pocket. "I have some basic experience," she lied, thinking of the magazine on safe use of firearms she had once leafed through in the dentist's waiting room. "I'll be fine. You be ready to receive us when we get back – if I risk my life to get that guy out alive, he had better damn well make it through afterwards to acknowledge it."

* * *

The wind had picked up to a steady gale, and the snowflakes cut like razors into April's cheeks as she pushed open the door. Shielding her eyes from the icy projectiles, she ran down the street as fast as she could, the fresh snow crisping under her shoes. For the first time that day since Dave had talked to her she had a clear sense of what she was doing, and it felt good, familiar. Now she was able to push her fears back far enough not to hinder her, and strode on grimly, trying not to think about what lay ahead, knowing that the only logical conclusion would be to turn back. And she didn't want to hear it.

The path she took led her down a wide street, then through an ancient parking lot where all sorts of rubble and metal were lying in wait under the snow. One or two decayed car carcasses watched her impassively with their cracked headlights. She looked around nervously. It would be hard to see her in this weather from any reasonable distance, but out in the open she still felt vulnerable, almost expecting a shot to crack at a any moment. She knew what was lurking the streets. She had seen one of them on the way here, a silent figure that was little more than a shadow in the wind, and disappeared before she knew what she was looking at. John told her that if they had been spotted, they would have been dead, and she knew he wasn't exaggerating.

So she kept to the shadows while she could, and kept her weapon close to hand. She hoped she would be able to use it if the need arose. She hoped even stronger that the need wouldn't arise.

She hoped Dave was alright.

Finally, she reached the street where she remembered last seeing him, and peeked around the corner cautiously. It seemed no different from all the others, which was to say it was wide, flat and covered in snow. Structures rose up on either side, but whereas those to her right were merely low, ugly warehouses, the one to her left was massive in size and intimidating in build. There was a fence round it, or what was left of one. The gates hung open and swayed in the wind, creaking with every twist.  
There was, of course, no-one to be seen. April cursed silently as she found herself trembling, from cold but from tension as well. If Dave was still around, perhaps passed out, he would probably be covered in snow right now, which not only made him hard to find but also provided a real threat to his health. As if he needed another one.

Carefully, step by step as if testing the ice, April ventured out into the open, scanning the snow for any tracks or piles that could indicate a snowed-under person. Inside her head, parts of her mind were yelling at each other to send her body into completely different directions. As her anxiety grew, the difference between Rose and April became clearer, the choice between fight or flight harder. She tried to ignore it, focusing her gaze on details, trying to find any sign of Dave having even been here. There had to be something at least, footprints or even a trail of blood, but with all this damn snow that just kept falling and falling…

And there it was, suddenly, just when she thought she might panic. Tracks, already very faint and shallow, that led from the road on to the terrain of the gigantic building. April looked up at it worriedly. It was a giant hulk of a structure, with three immensely tall pipes on top, one of which had broken off near the top and most likely crashed through the roof. It was not a building that invited the use of terms like 'stable' or 'solid'. Even so, she had no choice but to follow the tracks, which she did, with a nasty taste in her mouth.

The front doors were gone, nowhere to be seen. The prints in the snow led straight towards them, and continued on the dusty concrete inside. April's lips tightened as she noticed some red beneath the white here and there. She went inside as quickly as she could without making any sound, sneaking into the dark room until she could no longer see any kind of trail. Then she looked around, listening, searching for a hint where to go next.

There was none. All was dark and quiet.

Had she wished for silence in the howling winds outside, now she wished for sound, but there were no footsteps, no groans of pain or even shallow breathing. As her eyes got used to the darkness, she discerned several passageways leading off and realised that for a stranger this place would be a maze. Why would Dave hide here, she wondered, annoyed. That would make him almost impossible to find. Getting out of the cold was one thing, but this almost made it seem like he didn't _want_ to be found…

Oh.

April's hand tightened on her pistol as it dawned on her. Dave hadn't managed to get rid of his pursuers. At least one had probably followed him. Why else would he hide so close to his destination? She held her gun up in front of her and flashed her eyes from left to right. What the hell was she going to do now?

Turn back, one part of her said, turn back and get out. You can't help him anymore. Even if he's still alive, that only means that someone's inside here with him, someone who would kill you as easily as he'd swat a fly. Get out while you can.  
April shook her head. It was so tempting to give in to that voice. But another part of her was pushing just as hard to ignore it. It urged her to think, to watch, learn and think. Desperately, she closed her eyes, and let her mind go over the facts.  
She had a gun which she was almost sure she could fire. She had the element of surprise, considering that in this maze of hallways, even an enforcer wouldn't know where she was coming from, assuming he'd even know she was there at all. That was her advantage – she knew he was here somewhere, but he didn't know the same about her. Granted, it wasn't much, but if it could just give her an edge…

She would only have one shot. She had to find him, get close enough to fire accurately without him noticing, then hope the gun worked and the bullet would hit. If it wouldn't work, she wouldn't have much time to regret it, anyway.

So. Well. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was still very close to one end of the building, she recalled. If Dave was trying to lose his pursuer he'd go the other way, deeper into the maze. She nodded to herself. It seemed logical, at least, so now she had not only something like a plan but also a direction. Another deep breath, and she scurried off into what looked like a main passageway. Her fingers traced the wall as she plunged herself into the darkness. Soon, the last bit of light behind her had faded away, and she was all alone in that corridor, or so she hoped, at least.

Then, to her surprise, there literally seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel. That was strange, as on the outside of the building there hadn't been any windows on this floor. She advanced with extreme caution, sidling along the smooth stone, until she reached the end of the corridor, where lots of rubble covered the floor, almost causing her to trip.

When she looked around the corner, she saw why.

The huge pipe that had broken in half had crashed down on the roof right above and taken with it all the cheap, fragile floors in its wake before smashing itself to pieces on the solid ground floor. Through the consecutive holes, each an easy ten foot in diameter, the light of night twirled into the room, as did thousands of snowflakes that had already left a thick veneer on most of the rubble.

And in the middle of the room stood a figure in a long coat, looking down on a shape that lay near the other wall, huddled up, covered in blood and snow.

"You have fought for a very long time."

All the hairs in April's neck rose up as if charged with electricity. The voice was calm like a corpse is calm, and clean like a meticulously polished dagger. It suggested some very clear ideas of what the world ought to be like and precisely who should not be in it, along with the ability to put those ideas into practice.

"Always persisting. Always escaping. You are stubborn. I admire that, in a way. We both fight and kill for a future we wish to realize. We both want to shape that future to our own visions." The intonation changed almost imperceptibly, like a sword being drawn, an axe being raised. Like poison dripping in your drink.

"It is a shame your visions are so very wrong," the man said. "Otherwise you might yet live."

A soft clicking indicated a gun being cocked. The shape on the ground stirred. The man aimed his weapon at the shape, controlled, without a fuss.

And April yelled.

She didn't yell anything in particular, just a meaningless shout of fear and helplessness, the only result of her thoughts crashing into each other wildly without forming a coherent thought. The next moment she was staring into the barrel of the stranger's gun, and into his eyes, which were brown and surprised. An inch away from death, April was frozen to the floor, unable to move or breathe as she waited for the shot that would end it all.

And waited.

Nothing happened. They just stared at each other.

Then, to her astonishment, the man lowered his gun, relaxed his posture.

"You should not be here. It's not safe." He didn't sound worried. If anything, his tone held a tinge of pity. "Go home, then, and go to bed. I promise you that by tomorrow, you won't even remember this happened, and be glad that you don't."

She could only watch as he turned, away from her, out of her grasp, back to the slumped shape on the floor. Snowflakes fell down around him as he raised his gun for the last time. It glinted in the moonlight. Steel.

The shot echoed through the empty corridors, crude and ugly. A couple of rats fled from the dreadful sound, scurrying and scratching over the freezing floor.

Silence returned, settling like the dust.

* * *

Sometimes, one arrives in the nick of time only to find that it is still too late. Sometimes, promises that are broken with good intentions will never be repaired, and nor will breaking them have made a difference.

Sometimes, even trusting yourself can be the hardest thing to do.

* * *

The girl stepped over the body, without even bothering to check it. There was no need. The bullet had entered right at the base of the skull and come out the other side in a small fountain of blood. The gun fell from her stiff fingers and clattered on the floor as she knelt down at the other shape, the one that was pail of hair and skin. Her other hand reached out blindly, found the sunglasses. She put them on his face, where they belonged. He stirred.

"Who…?" he said, and it was all he had breath for. He tried to lift his arm, trembling, weak. "Who…?"

The girl seized his hand in mid-air, led it to her face, cupped it around her cheek.

"It's me," she said, and her voice was almost a whisper.

"It's Rose."


End file.
